


Of Fathers and Sons

by nothingeverlost



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps it was simply that he’d made studying her something of a hobby, both in this place and the Dark Castle, and he knew when she was acting naturally and when she was just acting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Fathers and Sons

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t begin to say how grateful I am for everyone who has and is writing a fic for 50 first hamburger dates. To anyone making art for it. And especially to 3pirouette for organizing this wonderful fic-a-day event. Little did I know when I said ‘I want fic about more failed hamburger dates’ what a beautiful avalanche I would begin. But it’s 3P’s baby and darling, you are so wonderful!
> 
> I had a slight panic attack when reading thehinkypanda’s [lovely hamburger fic](http://thehinkypanda.tumblr.com/post/38320591624/50-first-hamburger-dates-prodigals) because it touched on some themes I was writing about. Fortunately for me she’s a darling, and allowed me to piggyback onto her fic. You don’t have to read her fic to understand mine, but I did take her fic as pre-canon for this one. There’s also a little reference to my-darlingbelle’s wonderful and [emotionally resonate fic.](http://mydarling-belle.tumblr.com/post/39012173172/of-burgers-and-bracelets)

Sorry this is about half an hour late.

II

Belle was already in the diner when he arrived, which didn’t surprise him. The fact that she had a book, Jane Eyre this time, didn’t surprise him either. The intensity at which was was staring at the page might not have surprised him, except that something felt off about it. Perhaps it was that she was blinking too much, or sitting too still. Perhaps it was simply that he’d made studying her something of a hobby, both in this place and the Dark Castle, and he knew when she was acting naturally and when she was just acting.

“Hello sweetheart.” He slid into the booth across from her. He didn’t dare reach for her hand, but he did let his fingertips rest on the top edge of her book. A tentative connection, but he would take anything he could get.

Belle blinked, and for a moment he was sure she didn’t see him. And then she smiled. “Is it already twelve-thirty?”

“Five after. I’ve spent the last twenty minutes arguing about the price of a shoe that I created in the first place.” He shook his head. Really, the little princeling Cinderella had married could try being more respectful.

“I didn’t notice.” Belle carefully closed her book, using a paper napkin to mark her place. “Will you excuse me for a minute? I just need to use the restroom.”

“Of course.” He waited for her to touch his hand, or kiss his cheek, or any of the other affectionate greetings that were her habit. He always made sure to let her make the first move, and was never disappointed. A single touch from her fed him better than any hamburger, even if he could finish the thing; it had been almost three weeks of trying to have a first date, and his gut told him that today wasn’t the lucky one.

She walked right past him, and didn’t even say thank you. It was strange. He stared at the polished stone of his ring and wondered what could have her so distracted. The fact that they couldn’t make it through a full date was troubling, but it didn’t mean she wanted to end things. It couldn’t. There had to be something else on her mind.

“I don’t like you.” Granny brought the burgers he hadn’t realized Belle had already ordered. Apparently she had a new pearl of wisdom for him.

“Thank you for sharing Mrs. Lucas.” There were a dozen responses that occurred to him, all more natural and some of them cruel. He bit his tongue but couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice.

“I’m too old and I’ve seen too much to be worried about the likes of you turning me into a pig or bush or whatever it isn that tickles your fancy.” She set Belle’s plate down with far more care than his own. One of the pickles rolled off his own plate onto the table. He didn’t pick it up.

“As educational as this conversation is…” He looked over the Lucas woman’s shoulder, but could see no signs of Belle’s returning. 

“I’m not done talking, Gold.”

“Well.” Gold raised an eyebrow. She was more blunt than usual, and since she generally spoke her mind that was saying something.

“Like I said, I don’t have a reason to like you, and I can’t say that I trust you much either, even if you’re not the liar that Mills is. But…” She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to speak; really there was only so much he should be expected to tolerate, and even if she didn’t fear his magic there was the little fact that he still had power over her rent on both home and restaurant. His patience, at the moment, was wearing thin. Lucas wasn’t done, however. “There’s one thing I can say for you, it’s that you obviously care for that girl of yours.”

“If you’re about to suggest that I leave her alone, dearie, I wouldn’t waste your breath. Belle makes up her own mind, and wouldn’t thank you for it.” Other than Moe French no one had dared suggest such a thing, though he knew there were a great many who thought it and Emma Swan had probably bitten clean through her tongue to keep from saying anything. Belle, after all, was kind, gentle, beautiful and a hundred other things he didn’t deserve. She was willing to give him another chance, though, and he would not let anyone save herself take that away. 

“If I thought I had half a chance I might, but she’s more headstrong than my Eliza. That won’t stop me from coming after you with my crossbow if you hurt her.” There was a flash in her eyes, and Gold was reminded of the wolf she had once been.

“Consider me duly warned.” He could not object to anyone trying to protect his Belle, as long as they weren’t locking her up to do it. Besides, if he hurt Belle again he just might use the crossbow on himself.

“Good, but that wasn’t what I came over here for. Belle came in here a little earlier than usual.”

“So I surmised from the book.” He eyed the copy of Jane Eyre on the table she’d been reading when he’d entered the dinner.

“Moe French is usually gone, time she arrives. He was running a little late today.” Granny paused, allowing him to fill in the gaps all too easily.

“What did he say?” Gold enunciated each word with such a careful precision one could almost feel a sharply honed knife’s edge to the sounds.

“That’s between himself and Belle, and is hers to share only if she chooses.” Perhaps caught up in the moment, she seems to forget herself completely; she waved a finger at him, admonishing him as if he was a young child who had played in the mud, rather than a centuries old wizard who could, with a snap of his fingers, have her mooing and giving milk.

“I should turn him into a viper and put him in Regina’s garden. Let them duel it out between them,” he muttered. Fortunately it was in a soft enough voice that Granny heard, but Belle, a few steps behind her, did not.

“No the worst idea I’ve heard.” Granny straightened up, turned, and started back towards the counter. She paused for a moment before Belle. “There’s a time and place for iced tea, and this is not it. Ruby’ll bring you out some hot, with lemon. You drink it all.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Belle’s smile was one that might have been considered convincing by most. He knew her, though, and could see through the playacting. It was almost a relief when she sat and the smile faded. She looked like a lost child, and that hurt, but at least she trusted him enough to let him see the truth.

“Let’s get out of here.” He waited a full minute, but when she did nothing more than push the fries around her plate he moved to pick up his cane. 

“But Granny…”

“Can drink her own tea, and eat the hamburgers too if she likes.” He held out a hand to her after he stood, leaving a twenty behind on the table for cover the food and promised tea. She offered only a token protest, and made no mention of actually wanting the food, so he knew that getting her out of the diner was the right idea. They could try their date again tomorrow, but for now the last thing she needed was any pressure. “I want to show you something.”

“Something in the shop?” she asked as they crossed the street. Her hand was still in his even after leaving the diner. It made him feel better, until he looked down and noticed the scratches on her wrist that had not yet healed from pulling at the braclet young Henry had given her. The bracelet that reminded her too much of handcuffs for comfort. It was another reminder of what her father had done to her, and all he’d tried to take away. Even knowing now that the man was not responsible for his love’s death, his anger at the man say heavy in his gut. Over the centuries there had been few people that Gold had actually liked, and fewer that he could call friend. There weren’t that many that he actually hated, either. Moe French was on that short list. Most of the others were dead now, many at his own hand.

“No, not in the shop.” He was glad that she wore more practical shoes today, due to the cold weather. Not that he didn’t enjoy the sight of her in heels, but they wouldn’t have done at all for the walk down to the river. It was enough to have one of them unsteady; even at the best of times he did not like walking down the path just past his shop. The ground was frozen, and icy in places despite the fact that it had been salted over the weekend. It took more concentration than he would have liked, to walk down the path to the edge of the half frozen river. He hoped it was worth it.

“Oh Rum, it’s like a snow village.” There was a single tree, blocking their view. The moment they passed it Belle stopped. Gold didn’t mind the fact that she dropped his hand, because she clapped her hands together. Her smile this time was a genuine one. 

“The children seemed to have had a productive day yesterday.” It had been Charming who had mentioned, in passing, that the town’s children had spent most of their Friday morning down at the bank of the river where the snow was the deepest. At the time he’d been walking past the shop on a mission to retrieve the scarves and wooden swords that his grandson had apparently left on the snowmen that had been built. Now the area was a strange sort of mock battlefield, with dozens of snowmen and half dug barricades from a snowball fight that either ended with both sides winning or the snowmen victorious over the children.

“Those two are dancing,” Belle pointed out. And sure enough there were two snowmen facing each other, twig arms entwined and pebble dotted smiles on their faces.

“I’m afraid that one might have two left feet.” Not giving a damn about what it cost if it gave her a few minutes pleasure, Gold used some well aimed magic to make the snowmen really dance. True to his word about two left feet, the one snowman was far more lumbering and awkward than the one that appeared to wear a skirt.

Belle laughed, and that was all it took to have Gold focusing on each snowman in turn until they all moved. Two more pairs danced. The four closest to the snow forts threw snowballs at each other. One of the children had left a sled half buried in a snowbank, and with a flick of two fingers the smallest snowman sat on it while what might have been a snowdog or snowbear pulled it around.

He indulged himself for almost ten minutes, splitting his attention between controlling the figures and watching Belle’s face. She was enchanted and completely distracted from what had happened earlier. She smiled, and pointed out each snowman to him as if he wasn’t aware of what they were doing. More importantly she looped her arm through his and held him close. “Thank you, Rumple. It’s perfect.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” With his pointer finger he directed them into a line, all facing Belle and himself. They spun one last time, bowed, and then were once again still. After a minute she still held his arm and rested her head against his shoulder; it was difficult, but for her Gold dug into his memories. 

“Bae and I used to make a snowman every year, after the first good snowfall. It was a hard time, winter, but I still looked forward to that first snowfall and the half day we would put aside the work and instead pack together the snow and make a man as tall as we could, with bits of coal for his eyes and a mouth made of straw. Sometimes he would only last a day or two, but there were years when the frost came early and we might have our friend for most of the winter.” He did not mention, though, that those were lean and miserable years when his own belly was never quite full. Sometimes it was a struggle to make sure his boy had enough to eat, and of the two his son was growing and needed more.

“He must cherish those memories.” Belle squeezed his arm, her head not yet leaving his shoulder. “Traditions are important.”

“They are indeed.” He hadn’t made another snowman, in all the centuries since losing his boy. Today was the closest he’d come to it.

“My father wants me to move home with him.” Her muscles, which had been nicely relaxed, began to tense again. “He said it’s a new year, and we should have a fresh start. He has a room that he calls mine.”

“You spoke with him?” Gold asked, as if he hadn’t known the answer before she’d even brought it up.

“He was at Granny’s when I got there. I thought it would be alright, to say hello. I wanted to give him a hug but I just couldn’t. Not the last time I saw him, and not today.” She looked down, her lower lip almost white from the pressure of her teeth against the skin. “He’s my papa.”

“He hurt you, Belle. There’s nothing wrong about being angry over what he did.” Gold contained his own anger; she didn’t need to deal with that.

“I’m not. I don’t know what I am, but it’s not angry.” One of the snowmen had ended up close enough to touch. Belle reached out to fidget with the lopsided smile made from a piece of ribbon. “He says that we can start again, like nothing’s happened.”

Gold winced. The idea of his Belle living with a man who had already tried to take her across the town line once frightened him. The fact that Moe hated him, and would make no bones about it even knowing how his daughter felt was not a comforting prospect either. Belle made her own choices, but a litany of his crimes repeated by her father might manage to convince her that he really was a monster. For all that he’d tried to send her away once, to protect her, he couldn’t bear to do it again. “Are you thinking about him offer?”

“I don’t want to start again. Starting again means not learning from your mistakes.” The corner of the ribbon she played with drooped down. She smoothed it over with her finger to point up again. “I’m not sure he sees anything he’s done as a mistake.”

“If Bae were to show up right now I would want him to live with me. I’d want it more than almost everything. But more than that, I hope, I would want what made him happy.” There was a room in his house, rich browns and forest greens. He’d known the moment he’d come to himself, after Emma’s arrival, that the room was waiting for him boy.

“When,” Belle said softly.

“Pardon?” He crooked his head to the side. He’d been expecting her to say that building a relationship with her father was important and that she was going to live with him. In the most hopeful and least realistic corner of his heart he was hoping that she’d say she’d rather life with him.

“You said if Bae shows up. I said when.” 

It was, perhaps, the wrong thing to do but he could not stop the impulse to kiss her. She was, besides being his love, his hope and his wonder. “If moving in with your father is what you want…”

“No.” Belle shook her head. “I can’t be in the diner with him for five minutes. I think his house would be the same as Henry’s bracelet. I wouldn’t be able to breathe, there. I think right now my little apartment is the best place for me.”

“Shall I walk you home?” The sky was starting to turn gray; the snow village seemed to be due for a fresh cover of snow. Walking her home would mean more time with her, and making sure she didn’t cross paths with any meddling florist.

“I’m still trying to figure out where that is.” There was more than a shade of wistfulness in her voice. “Why don’t you walk me to the bakery instead, and we can have a cupcake to make up for the lunch I ruined again. That hot tea Granny was mentioning sounds good after being out here.”

“As you wish.” They stayed arm in arm as they left the field of snowmen behind. Gold looked over his shoulder just once, and noted that the dancing couple was once again turned to face each other. he was certain he’d left them all facing forward. Apparently some things couldn’t be separated, not even snowmen. Not even, surprisingly, himself and his love. And if dealing with Moe French was a part of that, he would find a way to make it work. He would do anything, for Belle.


End file.
